One Day Every Year
by KilianaFelagund
Summary: <html><head></head>One Shot. Dean is the big brother who never breaks, right? Everyone knows Dean doesn't cry, but there is one day, one day a year. He was a child, but the memory of his mother doesn't fade with time. Dean and Sam, Wee!chester. "So, No tears, No tears for me" - James Blunt. NO SLASH! Sad!Dean, Comforting!Sam (Ages 12 & 8 for half the story, set sometime in season 1 or 2 for the rest)</html>


I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.

In all honestly in every fanfic I have ever read, Mary Winchester sings "Hey Jude" and her lullaby but I don't know if it is actually canon. So I apologize if I am stealing anyone's story line.

I heard this song the other day, "No Tears" by James Blunt. I **LOVE **J. Blunt's music but it was the first time I thought about it is regards to Supernatural and I couldn't get the refrain out of my head and it fit Dean so well (in my mind at least) So hey, be nice. I love writing Fanfics, I write them often to give to friends, I don't post them as much, but this is my first Supernatural fic. Tell me what you think.

And my best friend was totally making fun of me because I wrote this instead of writing my essay that is due in two days. That means I have to go back and do my school now… college is so tiring.

Um, warning tags: warning for a implication (a small hint) of under-aged drinking. Warning for slight language

Ah well, enjoy!

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><p>~Kiliana<p>

_No tears for the life that you've led  
>You've had angels in your head<br>Did you hear them singing in the end  
>All the things that you've seen<br>All the things that could have been  
>Well I've been everything I want to be<br>So, no tears, no tears for me _

– _James Blunt "No Tears"_

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><p>The floor creaked eerily in the still room. Somewhere outside an owl screeched. Shadows casted by moonlight danced like claws on the wall reaching out but stopping just shy of the candle's flicker.<p>

Tick – Tick – mocked the clock on the wall – steady and heatless it laughed at the fluttering heart beat that seemed to pound like a drum in the deathly house. A single tear slipped silently from green eyes, crept softly down the side of the pale freckled face, and vanished silently into blonde hair. The watery emerald eyes didn't blink as they gazed unseeing at the fascinating crack that threatened to bring the ceiling crashing down. Tick – tick – mocked the clock.

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><p>"Sammy!" The strong voice of the twelve year old rang out through the motel.<p>

"What!" In complete contrast to the first, the reply couldn't be called anything other than a whine.

"Come on, it's bed time."

"I don't wanna godabed." The eight-year-old grumbled. He hunkered deeper into the couch clutching tighter at the picture book as he watched the door from the corner of his eye. Dean wasn't going to be pleased by the blatant disobedience. But what did he care. Dean wasn't dad, he had no right to boss Sam around. Other than the fact that he WAS the older brother, and dad DID leave him in charge. But bed times were stupid, after all Dean got to stay up as long as he wanted, why did Sam have to go to bed at eight?

"Sam, if you don't get your sorry ass in here in the next ten seconds, I'm gonna come get you." Dean's voice had lost its friendly edge as the threat echoed down to Sam. "You better run."

Sam burrowed in a little deeper. If you're going to disobey, don't do it halfway.

"…three – two – one."

Wait! Being in trouble with Dean, not worth it. Sam leapt off the couch and dashed across the kitchen for the bedroom, repentance coming just ten seconds too late. Dean met him in the doorway. Even at twelve he was a hunky lad. Sam's will-o'-the-wisp scrawny body was no match for his brother's.

"Dean, I was coming, I was in the bathroom and I couldn't finish fast–"

"B. S. Sammy, you are a terrible liar, Dad would be ashamed of that attempt." Dean's voice cracked slightly at his gravely attempt at sounding like dad.

"Oh ya, well he is not here is he, Dean!" Dean flinched at the sneer that punctuated his name.

"Don't go there Sam."

"Don't go there Sam," the lad mocked, his anger and frustration with bedtime quickly pushed aside his healthy fear of his brother. "Where is dad Dean? Huh? Where has he been for the last month? Dad sucks!"

Dean's face twisted into a snarl and he gave his brother a sharp jab that sent him sprawling across the linoleum floor. Quick as a flash he stepped over Sam's startled form. He pinned him to the ground and took his thin face between his hands. Flashing green eyes met grey. "Shut-up brat. Get in bed before I drag you there by your hair." He snapped.

Sam knew when to fold. He knew his brother well enough to know that tonight he wouldn't restrain himself. Something was off and Dean wasn't above physical violence. A shiver ran through the child's body and it wasn't from the cold heartless motel floor.

"Yes Dean." He whispered.

Slowly the elder brother stood up and stepped back. Sammy rolled over and rubbed at the growing lump on the back of his head. No word passed his lips as he slipped into the bedroom and crawled onto the bed.

Dean never hurt him, not on purpose. Even when they spared like dad taught them, Dean never went full out against Sam.

Sam couldn't figure out what was wrong.

A few minutes ticked by before Dean reappeared in the doorway. "Do you need anything before I turn off the light?" He asked in a slightly apologetic voice.

Sam shook his head silently and burrowed into his covers. His head was hurting more by the minute but he wouldn't cry in front of his brother, not tonight. Dean vanished only to reappear again a few minutes later with an ice pack from the fridge wrapped in a towel.

"Put this on it and go to sleep." His eyes didn't meet Sam's and the regret was obvious on his face, but still he didn't apologize so neither did Sam.

Sam jerked awake in the dark and sat up bewildered. His eyes quickly sought out the clock. It wasn't even midnight yet. A quick scan revealed that Dean wasn't in his bed – actually Dad's but who cares for technicalities – where he slept when their father was away. Sam rubbed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. The motel wasn't very big but it still came as a shock when he heard the slight hitching breath from the couch. Someone was crying. No, not just anyone, Dean was crying, albeit silently.

Sam rolled out of the comfortable warm bed and crept to the door. It was open just enough for him to see the kitchenette table, but the couch remained hidden.

Guiltily Sam turned away. Dean never cried, even when his arm was snapped he hadn't let out a tear. Crying in front of Sam was out of the question. He wouldn't be happy to know that Sam had heard him.

Like a ghost the little Winchester slipped back into his bed and closed his eyes. Sleep remained elusive though. His heart was fluttering, and like a bird trying to escape, it threatened to jump right out his mouth. Something was seriously wrong with his brother. Dean hadn't been himself all day, he hadn't laughed or even smiled once. He had helped Sam with his school work in silence, made lunch in silence, actually he hadn't really said a thing almost all day.

Sam crawled back out of bed.

The living room was completely silent. He paused by the door shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Sam raced back across the room and leapt back into bed, his heart thundering away. He really couldn't sleep. A quick glance at the clock let him know he had been up for ten minutes now. Perhaps Dean had fallen asleep on the couch. He would be cold out there.

Sam didn't want him to get sick from being too cold. He slipped back out of bed this time pulling the blanket off with him.

Then again, maybe Dean wasn't asleep. Sam would be in trouble for being up. Big trouble and maybe Dean would actually slap him. He almost never did, and the few times he had – true Sam deserved it – but it hurt more that it was Dean than that he had been hit.

No, going out there, bad idea, He clambered back into bed and sat huddled against the large wad of blanket.

Maybe there was a Vegetable Spirit in the Motel. Dad always said that Vegetable Spirits hurt people for the sake of hurting them. Sam wasn't sure what they were, but maybe one had hurt Dean.

Maybe Dean had slipped and hit his head on the table and was bleeding everywhere, wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe someone had broken into the motel, maybe they knew that their dad wasn't home and decided to kidnap Dean.

Maybe Dean had been attacked by a scary animal, like a pit-bull or a Chihuahua, those dogs were vicious, though he was pretty sure Dean wasn't scared by them, not like Sam, but you never know.

Sam rocked back in forth, his eyes were huge in the dark and unconsciously his thumb slipped up towards his mouth, luckily he stopped it in time. Dean called him a baby when he sucked his thumb. Eight was too old for that habit.

Sam shivered on his bed, the heat in the motel was off to save money and it was cold.

No, if Dean was hurt or asleep Sam wanted to make sure he was warm.

Sam slid back off the bed and pattered almost soundlessly across the floor to the door. It creaked slightly when he pushed it open. At the sound he froze clutching the blanket tighter. His heart would probably give out before he was twenty if it kept up the pace it was currently sporting.

With the same cautious silence he ghosted across the kitchen stepping around all the places he knew the floor creaked. It didn't even occur to him that most people didn't mentally map the floor for creaks like Dean taught him to.

For a moment he didn't breathe when his eyes met his brother's still form. He was curled on his side on the couch. One hand clutched a battered picture frame and the other pillowed his head. His breathing was still unsteady and his face was streaked with tears. Sam tiptoed to his side and quietly draped the blanket over his brother's body. It was quite the task to cover him completely without waking him up. Then right before he left he looked down at the picture and froze.

Mom.

Dean had a picture of Mom. Sam felt his heart still to a faint murmur as if something had reached into his chest and crushed it.

Dean never talked about mom, he had told Sam he had forgotten what she looked like. The Liar! Sam brushed a gentle finger over the picture before remembering that Dean was angry with him and he was going to be in a heap of trouble if he was caught awake at midnight.

He turned and began to slip away.

"Sammy," Dean's voice cracked pitifully and his breath hitched in the silence that met his voice. "M'sorry for p-pushing you." He barely whispered.

Sam turned back around and reached out to touch his brother's shoulder. "Iskay." He whispered.

"Why you up?" Sam would have been afraid at this point if Dean's voice wasn't so completely hollow and broken sounding.

"I woked up. Couldn't sleep… then I – I heardyacrying." He added the last part in a rushed mumble knowing that Dean would be embarrassed.

"That was over half an hour ago." Dean whispered without opening his eyes. Sam was startled by the quiet resignation in his usually feisty brother's voice.

"It took me a while to brave the kitchen." Sam said quietly after a moment. "Didn't wanna get in trouble."

"Comear." Dean slurred sitting up slightly and making a place for Sam to join him. Sam didn't wait to be asked twice, he was curled against his brother before the words had died in the empty room. There was nothing he liked less than Dean being angry with him, and if Dean was forgiving him he wasn't going to deny him.

"Why were you crying?" Sammy asked suddenly as he nestled his head under his brother's chin.

"She died aday S'm." he whispered Sam almost missed I even though he was pressed up against his side.

"Mom?" he whispered carefully. Talking about mom made Dean sad and angry but this time he only nodded silently.

"She died seven years ago Sammy. When you were b-born she, she… she told me that since I was a big brother now… I had to take care of you. I had to be a good b-big b-brother." Sammy glanced up when he felt a drip of water splash onto his face, to see Dean's chin quivering slightly.

"You are a good brother." He whispered. "The bestest ever!"

Dean's arms tightened around Sam's scrawny shoulders. "M'not. She would be so ashamed of me. She – She – She would be so – so ashamed that I – I pushed you. I'm – I'm sorry Sam!" And Dean completely broke down shuddering as sobs wracked his body.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and melted into his shaking body. Gently he pried the picture out of his brother's hands and pressed a kiss to the scratched glass that protected the faded paper. Setting it aside his sharp eyes suddenly saw the empty whiskey bottle on the side-table. His chest clenched again and a burning sensation wracked his mind at the sight, yet another reason to resent his father. Dean did everything his father did, all the way down to the whiskey.

After a while the wracked body grew still, but Sam didn't move. When the hitching breaths grew steady, still Sam didn't move. Not until the clock ticked past midnight did he move, and only then it was to pull up the soft blanket and nuzzle deeper into his brother's embrace. He would go back to bed in a minute, but Dean hated to be touched, unlike Sam who liked hugs. Dean was usually stiff, hugs were for girls, but as long as he was here on the couch with his brother, he was going to soak it up.

Dean was a wreck, the memory of their mother haunted him. Sammy ached knowing he couldn't help his brother. Sometimes he felt terrible for not missing his mother, but to Sam Dean was all the mother, or father for that matter, that he needed.

Sam breathed in the scent of sweat, tears, gun powder, and whiskey – he and closed his eyes, only for a moment before he went back to bed. Yep, just one minute more to enjoy one of Dean's rare hugs. Just. One. More…"

Sam woke up to the soft glow of morning shining through the window. The fuzzy blanket still cocooned him but his face was resting on the scratchy fabric of the couch. His hair felt stiff with dried salt, other than that he might have wondered if last night had happened or if he had simply fallen asleep on the couch and dreamed it.

Dean was gone, the picture was gone – Sam leapt off the couch and started for the bedroom.

"Don't you even think about doing anything before you put that blanket back and make your bed." Dean called from the other room. Sam huffed but turned around and gathered up the blanket.

Dean's hair was wet and spiked from a recent shower when Sam entered the room – his AC/DC t-shirt and jeans still damp from the steamy bathroom. He was propped up against the headboard of Dad's bed pouring over a Latin book. Sam hesitated and carefully checked to see if he was alright.

"Just as soon as you're done checking my awesomeness out, princess. The bed still needs making." Dean snorted sarcastically without looking up."

"Jerk." Sam snorted.

"Bitch." Dean retorted. Sam gasped before ginning like an idiot. Dean wasn't supposed to cuss, but it was still funny as Hell – though if Dad ever found out…"

Sam quickly made his own bed and grabbed his math book before walking to his brother's bed where he waited silently for a moment.

"Well, Samantha. Made up your mind yet or you gonna just stand there all day?" Dean still hadn't looked up.

"I was wondering if you could help me with my math?" Sam asked softly.

Finally Dean looked away from the book. "Sam, you smell, and your hair is sticking up like you got struck by lightning. Get a shower." Sam jerkily ran a hand through the salt stiffened hair and huffed.

Setting down his book, he scurried quickly to the bathroom. He probably got the fastest shower of his life that morning before poking his head out still swallowed by the folds of his towel.

"Dean, can I wear one of you shirts?" he asked hesitantly.

"What the hell for?" Dean turned to look at him sharply. "I'm flattered Princess, but I think girls wearing boys clothing is silly."

"Shut-up. Can I wear the Led Zeppelin one?"

"Ya, whatever." And Dean turned back to his book.

Sammy quickly found himself standing beside his brother's bed with his math book again, but now his long hair was sticking wetly to his head and his slender frame was enveloped by a T-shirt that was much too big. He scratched hesitantly at his jeans wanting to ask a question but dreading what might happen.

"Dean?" he finally asked in a timid voice. "Last night, the picture, are you okay?"

"Hum?" Dean looked up at him, and for a moment a deep gut-wrenching pain was reflected in his eyes before it vanished leaving the normal sarcastic Dean smirking at his little brother. "I don't know what you're talking about, get up here girl-friend and let me help you with your math already."

Sam smiled at the sarcastic retort, ya Dean was fine. He scrambled onto the bed and flopped down with his book.

"Read the lesson out loud." Dean mumbled from his Latin book.

"Today's lesson is fractions, you will learn how to…

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><p>The green eyes still hadn't blinked.<p>

Tick – tick.

Suddenly his voice broke the silence. "I'm sorry Mom." His husky voice sounded strangely loud in the empty room.

_ When you have the baby, will you still love me, Mummy?_

_ Oh Dean, of course I will, I'll always love you. _

_ Even when the baby is here? He won't steal any of your love from me?_

_ Never. I have more than enough love for both of you._

_ Poor dad, you're going to use all your love up on us and he won't have any left for him._

_ Well, you're worth it lovie! But don't worry, I think I can manage all three of my favorite boys at the same time._

_ When the baby is born? Can I help you care for him?_

_ Yes Dean, you'll be a big brother. You'll be a good big brother won't you? You'll have to take care of your brother you know, that's the job of big brothers. _

_ I wanna be the best big brother ever!_

_ Yes Baby, you will be. Now close your eyes and go to sleep. – Hey Jude, Don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better…_

"I failed you in so many ways. I failed Sammy too. I wanted him to be happy, I couldn't protect him." The green eyes squeezed shut and his fingers tightened convulsively around a battered picture frame. The picture was so faded it could hardly be recognized, but he didn't care. "He was happy with Jess, Mom. Take care of her mom, if she misses him half as much as he misses her – well, she would need some comforting." Silence fell again.

Tick – tick.

The door in the kitchen creaked open and the heavy tread of boots made their way to the living room where a bag was dropped with a thud. Still Dean didn't move. He wasn't really there, he was lost in memory.

The giant form of the once little brother slipped into the door frame. Dean lying still on the bed, the moon light glistening off hardly visible tracks on his face, the picture frame in his hand. Slowly Sam slid down the doorframe to the floor. He knew, this day came every year, and every year it was the same.

Tick – Tick – but the mockery was lost.

The shadows still loomed out to clutch the candle, the owls still screeched, but the house no longer felt cold and uninviting. Dean rolled his head over and gazed at his brother through half-closed eyes.

Sam smiled a half smile.

"You're the bestest ever." He whispered.

Dean returned the smile and sat up.

Sam sighed. "I'd offer to hug you, but, no chick-click moments, right?"

"Well, in the past this day didn't count." Dean's voice was hoarse and hardly audible as he mumbled the words under his breath turning back to the window.

With a cheeky grin, Sam heaved himself off the floor and dragged his brother off the bed and into his arms. The hug was brief but for a moment Sam was a little boy again huddled on the couch, under a silly blanket, in the dead of the night, while their father was God knows where and Dean suffered through the memories of his mother's death alone.

With a grunt Dean pushed him away. The pain in his eyes hidden away again until next year and an expression that almost looked like fond love for Sammy…until he slammed his walls back into place.

"I found a lead on the shifter." Sam said dryly before vanishing into the living room.

"Ya, and where is the damn thing… Samantha?" He didn't even have to be in the same room to know that Sam was rolling his eyes.

"Jerk!"

"Bitch." The past was the past, memory left behind for another year, Dean would snark, Sam would grumble, but hey, what else did Winchesters do?

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><p><em>No tears for the life that you've led<br>You've had angels in your head  
>Did you hear them singing in the end<br>All the things that you've seen  
>All the things that could have been<br>Well I've been everything I want to be  
>So, no tears, no tears for me <em>

– _James Blunt "No Tears"_

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><p>So... What did you think? I love reviews.<p>

Feed the muse! (She likes cookies, candy, bacon, and LOTS of coffee... like no kidding, LOTS and LOTS of coffee.)

If you want me to write something, leave me a message and I'll see what I can do, I've never asked for ideas before but I thought maybe it would be fun, so I'll keep writing if you want me to.

~ Kiliana


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